


I Know You

by SilentReprobate



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentReprobate/pseuds/SilentReprobate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it came down to it, they knew each other. They knew exactly who they were from all those years ago. It was a night to remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know You

**Author's Note:**

> It's a friend's birthday and I decided to make a thing for them. I told them that [Once Upon a Dream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8waJ7W3QcJc) made me think of Rothfrye, so this is the result of that. It’s a kind of reincarnation/soulmate AU? I guess?
> 
> I hope they like it. My first AC fic, please enjoy ;~;

It wasn’t like him to come to one of these shady places. They hardly entertained him most of the time. While yes, the sight of sweaty, bruised and bleeding men of strong stature fighting each other did always sound pleasant, today he wasn’t feeling it. Roth was still nursing a headache that ruined anything positive. However, the strong pull he felt to come to this exact location was just that, strong. Too strong. How could he resist?

Fight Clubs, as it was, never changed.

All of it was too loud and by the end of the night he’d surely have a stronger headache to deal with. He glides through the crowd of rowdy people easily, sitting himself in a corner out of the way that still gave him a good view of the ring. It’s hard to tell what match or round it was on, these things seem to go on forever with people changing every so often. Roth hardly paid attention.

When _he_ steps into the ring however, he sits up in his seat.

The man was undoubtedly handsome; young by the looks of it. He couldn’t be older than twenty-one. Roth could catch sight of a tattoo, a bird, a true symbol of freedom. Even from where he sat, it was like clear as day to him and the sight oddly familiar. Like he had seen it once before but couldn’t recall. He could forget about the headache and the rest of the people just by staring at this man. One so agile and strong he makes it to five rounds. How many times has he done this?

Roth nearly laughs at how cliché it feels when their eyes catch. It’s like the world stops around them, there’s no sound, nothing but them staring at each other. There’s a spark. That pull felt incredibly stronger. His heart beats faster in his chest and that’s all he can hear, the blood rushing through his system as he stares at this handsome man whose name catches in his throat. Did they know each other? Surely not, Roth would remember a face like his. _Jacob_. His name was Jacob.

They’d been staring too long. A fist connects with the fighter’s face and down he goes. But not out, never out. Jacob was back on his feet in no time and angry, at himself or the opponent he can’t tell. In the end, the other guy is left with a severely broken arm and the match is over.

Jacob slides from the ring, approached by some other person, probably the ring leader by the way he asks, “Care for another round?”

“Not this time, Topping,” Even when talking with the man, his eyes never leave Roth’s. The money placed in his hand wasn’t much, he doesn’t bother counting, just stuffs it into his pocket before getting dressed. What a shame… He looked good without a shirt on.

Standing up from the chair, he smiled as Jacob moved through everyone to come see him specifically. The urge to embrace him hit hard. He distracts himself by flattening the creases in his suit.

“Not expecting some fancy dressed cat like you to be in a shithole like this,” Jacob says, flashing a smile that would no doubt melt hearts. It certainly got to his.

Roth laughs, “I heard about the bravest man in London and had to see him myself.” It was a blatant lie yet the words fell from his mouth like he’s said them a dozen times before. He hides the confusion well and instead holds out his hand for Jacob to shake, “Maxwell Roth.”

“Jacob Frye, pleasure.”

So he was right… His name _was_ Jacob. If his heart beats any faster it would leap from his chest. How did he possibly know his name? And that pull… It brings an idea to his head. There was no harm in trying it, “Come with me? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

Surprisingly, Jacob agreed. There was a car already waiting for them outside.

“Lewis, to the Alhambra please.”

The ride was quiet. Jacob seemed to be enamored by the too fancy car and all its fun buttons. Even the champagne held his attention; laughing at the names that were too hard to read. He couldn’t help but find it endearing, a smile of absolute fondness spreading across the older man’s face. He turns. Only a few minutes and Roth was already in love.

A first aid kit was pulled from the glove compartment. Carefully, Roth takes one of Jacob’s hand, wiping away the blood from his knuckles and wrapping them. Underneath the newsboy hat was some blood that had begun to dry. He wasn’t used to this feeling, the nervousness that ate at his stomach as he carefully moved to take off the hat. The cut wasn’t that bad now that he saw it better. That too was cleaned, no stitches required, before he places the hat back on.

They were far too close to each other and yet Jacob seemed unfazed. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off quickly when Lewis spoke. They’re here. Exiting the car, they came face to face with a blues and yellows of buildings that were definitely not the Alhambra.

Jacob turned to Roth with confusion, “Odeon Leicester Square?”

“This is where the Alhambra used to be. It burned down in 1882,” He speaks as though these facts were just offhand information he knew, motioning for Jacob to follow, “Of course they rebuilt it but in the end it was demolished in 1936 for this cinema.”

He paid no mind to the other people here. His attention was solely on Jacob. The younger was filled with curiosity yet his eyes looked past him, past everything.

For a moment, Jacob could hear and smell burning wood. He could hear the faint but echoing screams that made his head jerk in the opposite direction of Roth. Hell, he could even hear an angry chant of ‘burn, burn, burn’ in his head that oddly sounded like his company’s voice. However, there was nothing when he looked around. Nothing that went with the sounds he heard.

Thankfully, he was pulled from it all when his shoulder was grabbed. Roth looked at him with concern and he merely smiled and shrugged it off. It was just them again. No other sound besides the typical bustle of London was all he heard. Fire never unsettled him before.

His attention returns to Roth to find the man handing him money. It takes him off guard, staring at it like it was going to attack him. Hesitantly he takes it but he doesn’t count it. At the moment it felt too rude and was just grateful for the simple gesture. A complete stranger had decided to give him money…

“I imagine you had reasons for being in that ring, my dear?”

“Needed the money to help support my sister.”

Roth held out his hand suddenly. This man sure had a way of confusing him. Carefully, he grabs his and was pulled closer. For whatever reason, this feels right; the rough palm and the weight on his waist as Roth puts his other hand there. There’s no music but quickly they’re both pulled into a dance, Roth taking the lead.

To the outside world this was an odd sight to see. To them, it was peaceful. A laugh comes from Jacob as he’s spun and pulled back closer to Roth. The glow of the lights illuminates their faces in blues and yellows. Spinning slowly with each other, it almost was like they were in the Alhambra. He could imagine the large room and the stage, the red curtains and the pillars that made up the several stories building. All of it was as clear as day.

Eventually the dance comes to a stop. The imagery fades from their heads and Leicester Square returns. They don’t separate right away.

“Why did you do it? All of this? For a stranger like me…?” So much happened in one night and Jacob can’t wrap his head around Roth’s actions. Kindness had been hard to come by these days.

“Why not? Surprise is the spice of life, my dear.”

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, “Any more surprises?”

Hands grab his face as he’s pulled into a kiss. Jacob freezes, for a second he wants to pull away before that sensation fades. He doesn’t want to pull away. The kiss was warm and different. Jacob had to have kissed a dozen people but none had a spark quite like this. He brings his hand up to hold Roth’s as his eyes slip shut and he melts into the kiss.

It seems to last a lifetime. Maybe it did. More images flood through him, the _memories_ rushing him made it seem like an eternity. They knew each other. He _knew_ Maxwell Roth so long ago. In the moment he can feel the heat of the fire burning Alhambra to the ground, feel the blood on his hands, and the prickle of tears in his eyes. It was Roth’s death, the day he killed him.

And then Roth pulls away.

He feels so terribly cold.

Roth steps back, arms held open wide, “Darling, what a night!” No other words were exchanged before the older man turns and leaves. Jacob was now alone, standing in the middle of the square speechless.

There’s a piece of paper in his hand. It must’ve been slipped during the kiss he was too distracted with. He takes the second to read it; Roth’s number and address were scribbled on in fancy handwriting he knew all too well. He smiles.

He’ll be sure to give Maxwell Roth a visit early in the morning.


End file.
